Goring used to put one of my handcuffs on his own wrist at night, so there wasn't much chance of moving without waking him.

I had an old horse to ride that couldn't go much faster than I could run, for fear of accident.

It was even betting that he'd fall and kill me on the road.

If I'd had a laugh in me, I should have had a joke against the Police Department for not keeping safer horses for their prisoners to ride.

They keep them till they haven't a leg to stand upon, and long after they can't go a hundred yards without trying to walk on their heads they're thought good enough to carry packs and prisoners.
'Some day,' Goring said, 'one of those old screws will be the death of a prisoner before he's committed for trial, and then there'll be a row over it, I suppose.' We hadn't a bad journey of it on the whole.